October 31st
by Von Gentleman
Summary: After decades spent together living nearly identical lives since birth, Ingo suddenly departs without warning. Feeling betrayed and abandoned, Emmet struggles to cope. NSFW due to the heavy themes and strong language.


**Title: **October 31st

**Author: **Von Gentleman

**Author's Notes: ** I've been struggling to write for months, and this idea suddenly popped in my head on Halloween morning. I wrote it in six hours. Just a one-shot!  
There are no pairings in this fic. Ingo and Emmet are platonic, albeit incredibly enmeshed and dependent on each other. Oh, hell, if you want to read into it that way, you can, but I want to throw the non-blankshipping fanbase something to chew on too. This is a one-shot, but it's long.

Cross-posted to my tumblr (vongentleman).

**Warnings:** NSFW mainly for language and heavy themes.

…

**OCTOBER 31ST**

Nimbasa City could look awfully dreary.

Emmet's eyes barely stayed fixed on the cityscape outside the apartment window, vision wavering its focus between the bright lights of the theater, amusement park, and stadiums, which were trying so desperately to compensate for the dark and gloomy day, and the thin layer of moisture on the storm window that would surely become frost by nightfall.

Circles had become a seemingly permanent feature on the conductor of what was formerly the battle subway. The burn of alcohol, which used to be enough to make him start coughing after a big swig, was something he had gotten used to. Swishing the last bit of clear liquid around in his glass, he downed it and rubbed his eyes, dull headache throbbing as he lay his head on the large windowsill he sat before. He had been staring outside so long, Emmet didn't even notice how dark it had gotten in the apartment. It would probably be best if he turned some lights on, but his aching head wouldn't have it; after all, there was at least one light source in the apartment—

"Chan!" the ghost-fire type called, butting up against Emmet's back in an almost impatient way.

The tall, lanky man was slow to lift his head. "What is it?" he asked in a voice far too tired.

Ingo's chandelure bumped itself against Emmet a few more times before he finally sat up straighter, the implication of his brother's pokémon sinking in, albeit slower than it would have normally, had he been sober.

"He's here!"

Gangly legs struggled for a moment before clumsily carrying him instinctively to where he knew he'd find his elusive twin. Ingo rest one gloved hand behind himself on the small of his own back, the other hand holding up one of the many empty bottles that seemed to have made quite a collection in the half of the bedroom that used to be his own.

With his gaze downcast, eyeing the bottle as he turned it around in his hand, Ingo didn't even bother to look up. "You drink far too much," he said, matter-of-factly as ever. "It isn't healthy."

"And you never get enough sleep. That's going to catch up to you one day." Deciding to move on from the subject, Emmet traipsed closer, taking a seat on the bed, posture slumped. "Where the hell have you been?" he insisted instead. "And when are you returning to work? I can't run the battle subway without you and it's been suspended as a result." Emmet's voice was flat, even-toned. The smile he had been known for hardly ever made an appearance anymore.

"You still think I'm going to return?" Ingo sounded genuinely curious and placed the bottle back down, moving to take a seat beside him.

Emmet was quiet and stared at his brother silently, Chandelure's glow casting purple light over his face and cast bizarre shadows all over the room. Ingo's loyal pokémon did not leave the two alone, not even once.

Ingo's silver eyes were questioning. "Emmet, it's been nearly five years since I left. I'm not returning."

The younger twin could feel a lump in his throat form but managed to keep his composure. "Then why are you here? You only visit a couple times a year. On our birthday, always, a few times when I'm doing really badly, and…" Emmet trailed off, frowning. There was a long pause before he continued, "Always around this time of year," he concluded, making an odd, fidgety hand gesture to refer to everything outside.

"Always on October thirty-first," Ingo clarified. A moment later, he reached in his pocket and took out his pocket watch, a birthday gift he had received from his twin about fifteen years ago. With a soft click, it opened, revealing the ticking hands passing by the roman numerals. "Always at 17:53."

Emmet was silent and closed his eyes, allowing gravity to take over his body as he flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. His mind went back to Ingo's earlier comments about how he drank too much, which prompted a delayed answer. "How do you expect me to cope when we've been living together, living identical lives, always there for each other no matter what, for over forty years, only to have you suddenly decide you want to leave one day and live your own life?" The younger twin was attempting to shout but his voice became softer and softer as he spoke until the tears came, causing him to shift onto his side, body suddenly having a preference for the fetal position.

"Y-you don't even answer your phone, it's never even on," he stammered, "And you didn't even tell me where you went! _Fuck_, I don't even know if you even still live in the Unova region," he shivered, holding onto himself. "You didn't even take your pokémon with you. How do you expect me to care for both mine and yours?!"

Ingo gazed at his tormented twin, his heart sinking upon the sight and hearing the words he uttered. Every year on this day, it was almost the exact same conversation. Ingo held his head in his hand.

"I'm still so dependent on you, Emmet," Ingo murmured, finally moving down behind his brother, arms draping around him. "I didn't want to leave and it was never my intention. You don't know how badly I want to come back, but I _can't_," he whispered. "It's so difficult to get away to even visit you twice a year; the other times are truly luxuries." Ingo pressed his forehead to the back of Emmet's neck. "Please, I have no easy way of explaining this. Just believe me."

Emmet stayed quiet for several moments before reaching to touch one of Ingo's hands. "It sounds like you really got yourself into some deep trouble. Is that it?"

Ingo closed his eyes. "That's one way of putting it."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I couldn't. Besides, you already knew. You just seem to have forgotten."

…

"Go on," said the soothing voice of the doctor who sat in a chair across the room from Emmet in order that he felt like he had plenty of space. There was an aroma of spice and pine, a common scent around the winter holidays that filled the office. Luckily, the room was spacious, dimly lit, with luxurious furnishings and tasteful décor, far nicer than any other shitty psychiatrist's office Emmet has ever been to.

It took a lot to get the younger twin to seek professional help; after all, he did not have the greatest experiences with psychiatrists in the past. Ever since that fateful day when he heard a loud _crack_ in his own skull— he can't remember exactly how it happened, only that more than one person, including the doctors and his parents, had explained to him that it was an accident— he hadn't trusted mental health professionals, and neither did his brother.

Now his brother wasn't even with him anymore. It was unbearable pain, so terrible that he was willing to give a psychiatrist a shot.

"I know it's not normal, not even for identical twins, but you have to understand," Emmet explained, sighing. "We never knew separate lives. We shared a room as children and we shared a room as adults. We had the same profession. We were always on the same page with each other, always in sync with each other no matter what."

"And five years ago, your brother chose to live a life apart from you?"

Emmet nodded, fists balling up.

"Tell me how this happened," she asked, turning a page in her yellow notepad over. "Did he announce it? Was it planned or sudden?"

"No, he—" Emmet shook his head, covering his mouth to keep from crying.

"It's okay. Take your time." The doctor handed him a tissue box, though he didn't take any. Instead, he ran his fingers through his short hair, grabbing onto what he could before letting go, his hair standing up in different directions, messy.

"We went to bed," he started, gaze cast away from the doctor, looking upward. His eyes darted to the left before he winced and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I woke up and he was gone. Just gone. He left all his things exactly as they were. He normally makes breakfast for us in the morning and there was none of that, obviously."

"So you think he left while you were asleep?"

"I see no other explanation. Wait…" he paused, frowning. "No, it was Halloween. I did see him that morning. Yes, he made breakfast and everything. He just never came home that night, I guess." He winced again. "I guess I'm thinking of the day after, how I woke up and he wasn't there."

The doctor leaned forward, nodding her head. "Sometimes when we lose something, it's easy to glamorize what we used to have. _Always_ together, _always_ on the same page," she explained. "Certainly, it can seem that way, because we tend to only remember the good times. But surely you both have had your arguments. There's no doubt in my mind where one of you questioned the other. You probably even had moments where you couldn't stand to be in the other's presence."

The younger twin kept his head down, listening. There was truth to what she was saying, but he could tell what trajectory she was taking and he simply did not agree. Nevertheless, he stayed silent.

"Therefore, it's possible that Ingo had been wanting to live his own life for a while. Now, I don't think it's right that he's made it so difficult for you to contact him. It's possible that he might fear falling back into being enmeshed with you. Once someone achieves independence after a life of dependency, they are loath to risk losing it. Some people are very fragile this way and will cut themselves off from any threats because they know they can so easily fall back into being so dependent." Her legs shifted and crossed. "I can tell that you are still very much dependent and enmeshed with your twin brother."

Emmet wanted to retort with the conversation they had a few weeks ago, how Ingo clearly explained that it wasn't what he wanted—hell, he really sounded like he got himself into trouble and he didn't even tell him what kind of trouble he had fallen into. The words she spoke began to go in through one ear and out the other, eyes watching her mouth move but not registering what she was saying until, before he knew it, their time was up.

"Come back in a month. Are you free on the twenty-second at 9:30 in the morning?"

The younger twin nodded absentmindedly and took the card she handed him with the date written on it.

…

"Emmet?" came a soft voice from the bedroom door. Either she just let herself in with the spare key, Emmet didn't hear the knock, or he had completely forgotten to lock the door; either way, Nimbasa City's gym leader, the model, Elesa, was walking toward him.

Upon seeing the man in his rumpled work clothes in bed, clutching his twin's black coat close to his chest, her brows furrowed and she let out a concerned sigh, reaching out gently to touch his shoulder. "How are you holding up?"

Emmet blinked a few times and finally shifted to look at the famous model who happened to live just a few doors down the hall in the same apartment complex.

"You changed your hair color," Emmet murmured in confusion.

Elesa gazed at him blankly before her own expression reflected an equal amount of confusion. "I changed my hair color at least five years ago."

Emmet blinked again and curled up more, fingers clutching his brother's coat tighter. "Really? Oh." He went quiet and then tried to compensate for his inexcusable lack of observation. "I guess I just always thought of you as a blonde."

"Actually, black is my natural hair color, but you did meet me as a blonde, so I guess that's understandable," she offered in an attempt to tease, though she sounded more serious than she intended.

Emmet remained quiet.

Elesa cleared her throat awkwardly, attempting to change the subject. "So… there's a lot of chatter on the streets about everyone missing the battle subway. Do you think you might-?"

"No."

Elesa went quiet and frowned. "You won't even consider it?"

"I can't run the battle subway without Ingo."

It was an answer the model was sure she would hear, but she nevertheless wanted to feel him out about it.

"Yes, of course," Elesa said softly, feeling as though she was treading on eggshells now. She, too, missed Ingo horribly. It wasn't unusual for the three of them to hang out once or twice a month at some big swanky event. It was easy to get the twins' names on a VIP list and just party the night away like teenagers.

"I keep trying to convince him," Emmet finally added.

Elesa's blue eyes blinked before staring blankly at the man clinging desperately onto his brother's coat. "You… what?"

"It really sucks just being a regular old train conductor. No more excitement. The pay is significantly less." Thoughts ran through his head before he finally looked up at her. "Hey. Ingo left all his pokémon with me and I can't take care of them all… do you think you could look after his klinklang? I'm sure you could teach it only electric moves if you wanted. Ingo won't mind. He trusts you." Emmet shifted onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. "Our second-cousin took Garbodor," he murmured. "And the folks at the theater loved Crustle when we put our pokémon in their musicals, so they're looking after him for now. I guess I'm just looking for 'fosters' until Ingo decides to come back, it's just too hard for me to take care of twelve pokémon. I'm holding onto Chandelure though. It always knows when Ingo's visiting before I do, but I guess sometimes pokémon have stronger bonds with their trainers than even identical twins do."

The gym leader opened her mouth to say something but the words she wanted to speak wouldn't come. Elesa knew Emmet had been in a horrible state of mind ever since that Halloween five years ago, but she had been completely taken by surprise.

"Y-yeah, I'll take care of Ingo's klinklang."

Emmet reached for the poké balls on what used to be Ingo's night table on his side of the room, finding Klinklang's easily, and handed it over to the gym leader. "Thanks. I'm sure Ingo appreciates it too."

"I-I'm sure he does," Elesa managed, voice faltering. "Well, I was just here checking on you. Let me know if you need anything, okay? I'm just down the hall."

…

The sound of the tracks clacked in rhythmic, even patterns as what used to be the super single line clacked over them. Emmet found himself conducting Ingo's former trains fairly often; he'd generally go where the need was, especially when a depot agent called out sick. Although his work was not much different than other depot agents, he was still a boss— no, _the_ boss ever since his brother left—and wore the same white uniform he always wore.

Sitting in the last car on the empty train, Emmet's gaze went far off into space, his mind no longer in the present, but in the uncomfortable realm of uncertainty.

_What is Ingo doing with his life? Where is he living? Is he really in trouble? Did he find someone he wants to spend the rest of his life with more than me?_

The last question he had would seem ridiculous to anyone else, but when all he knew was life with his brother and it suddenly was taken away from him, the very idea of adjusting seemed impossible.

But 'suddenly' was more than five years ago.

What seemed most perplexing to Emmet was that he really couldn't remember what happened in the months, weeks, or even days leading up to Ingo's sudden departure. The more he thought about it, the harder it was to grasp. It was as if there was some dark chasm, a deep void where the information should have been; it was as though he was reading a book of his own life and several pages of the most crucial chapters had been ripped out, nowhere to be found.

Perhaps the sound of the train and the tracks were lulling him into the odd thoughts, allowing him to nod off for several minutes, taking him into a dream that seemed oddly familiar.

It was one of those dreams that seemed all too real. Commotion surrounded him, bright lights of a stalled subway train flooding the tunnels with emergency crews descending upon the tracks. Emmet ran passed all the depot agents and there was one who stood stiff, face pale as a sheet.

"What happened?" Emmet demanded, his voice nearly lost among the echoes in the station.

There was no answer from the depot agent, only a horrified look. Whatever had happened, it wasn't good, and there was a crowd forming around the obvious scene. Emmet spotted children in their Halloween costumes, some holding back, though clearly curious, while others tried to get closer, only to be turned away by super single line staff and emergency workers. He could clearly see a child dressed up as a litwick, moving away, frightened by a depot agent's barking voice. They had been giving out candy on the subways to all the young challengers that day, and he could clearly see some pieces drop on the floor from the pumpkin-shaped bucket the child dressed up as a litwick held as she scooted off along with all the other children.

Emmet turned to the familiar depot agent who worked for the super single lines—his name was Henry, or Harry—something with an H.

"No one is telling me what happened," Emmet said, frowning. "Does Ingo know about this?"

Henry-or-Harry stared at the white-clad conductor, looked at the train, looked at the crowd disbursing, and then back at Emmet. He took Emmet's arm with a gloved hand, walking him off to the side.

"No one is going to be as upfront with you as me, so I'll tell you." He held onto both of Emmet's shoulders and looked right into his eyes. "Our boss fainted, Sir. He was on the platform as the super single train approached, far past the yellow line, and fell right onto the tracks."

Emmet could feel his eyes widen. "The train?!" he asked frantically. "Is Ingo-?" Without waiting for an answer, he began running closer to the platform, pushing people aside. _That idiot_, he thought, _I told him he never gets enough sleep, I told him it would catch up to him. Fuck, just please be okay, please be okay._

Just as he approached the platform, he was running so frantically, so clumsily, that he tripped over the textured yellow line—

-awaking with a jolt.

…

"Stop drinking so much. You're going to kill yourself with that one day."

"Sleep more. You'll die fr'ima lacka sleep," Emmet slurred over his vodka, snorting to himself.

"You're too young to die," Ingo retorted, taking the bottle away from him and placing it aside.

"We're like forty-five, we're not too young for anything."

"Forty-five isn't old," Ingo hissed. "And drinking is no way to cope with your problems. Do you tell your therapist that you drink this much?"

"How d'ya know I have a therapist?" Emmet lashed out, grabbing him by his arm. "You're never here, n' I didn't tell anyone about that."

"I'm your twin, Emmet. I know everything about you," he murmured, forcing him to lay back on the bed.

"You're a mess and you need to sleep."

Chandelure's flames lit the dark room and Ingo's pokémon floated closely behind her trainer; the pokémon may not have been in Ingo's care anymore, but the chandelier-like creature never seemed to regard him as anything but its trainer and owner, loyal regardless of how long he had been away.

Emmet did little to resist his brother and got under the covers compliantly. "Why are you here, anyway? S'not our birthday and s'not Halloween."

"Stop slurring your speech," Ingo requested with an eye-roll before sliding beside his brother, an arm draped around him. "I'm here because I'm worried about you. I guess you've been on my mind a lot lately because I know the dark places your mind can go to." Ingo's fingers started to caress his hair. "And I haven't seen you smile in ages."

"You hardly come by t'see me, period. Y'expect to see a smile?" Emmet's body turned so he could plant his face against Ingo's chest.

"I've been around way more often than you think. I'm at Gear Station quite often." His fingers played with the short strands. "Maybe I'm not easy to spot in the large crowds, but if you look for me, you might see me."

Emmet clung to his brother's shirt. "I think your pokémon are sad. I can't take care of them all, so I had to give them foster homes."

"I know," Ingo murmured. "To be honest, they are probably going to be permanent homes, unless you decide to take them back. I saw how sad they were on the day I departed. Like I said, I never wanted to leave."

Emmet closed his eyes, inhaling his twin's familiar scent, comforted by it. "So my therapist is full of shit?"

"Aren't they always?" Ingo asked, cracking a smile, prompting Emmet to laugh for the first time in ages.

Once the giggling calmed down, Emmet's breathing evened out once more. "Then why did you leave? What kind of trouble did you get into?"

"There was a big accident that was all my fault. As a consequence, I had to leave."

"A big accident?"

"Yes, at Gear Station. It was an accident so severe, I could never show myself again."

"What happened?"

"Let's just say that you were right— my lack of sleep caught up with me. As a result…" Ingo's fingers moved from his hair down to his back, "There was a very terrible accident and I got in serious trouble."

"And you never told me about it?"

"Emmet, you already knew about it. You just seem to have forgotten."

…

The loud echoes of Gear Station bounced off the high, elegant ceilings and filled the main concourse. Emmet held onto the seventh poké ball and released Chandelure into the station.

"Have some fun today," he told the ghost-fire type, bumping his nose against its ghoulishly elegant face.

"Meet me at the office at the end of the day," he instructed Ingo's pokémon that morning as they departed.

Two hours hardly passed before Emmet began to hear some odd chatter of rumors.

"You did?! I saw him too!" cried one of Emmet's subordinates over her coffee in the break room to her colleague. "Where did you see him?"

"I saw him checking the schedule board. He looked angry that the train was a minute late."

"Well, I hate to say it, but it's true. Things seem to have fallen behind schedule more and more often ever since he—"

"Yeah, I know. Anyway, where did you see him?"

"I saw him while I was in one of the cars, about to doze off. He glared at me, then went on his way."

"Boy, does that sound like him, alright."

Emmet eavesdropped on the chatter and could only conclude they were talking about his twin. He wanted to pry further but there was half of him that just couldn't believe it. He recalled what Ingo said, that he's around Gear Station often, but for others to see him while Emmet missed out seemed like some cruel joke.

The white-clad conductor walked into the break room, subordinates stiffening up as he entered. Really, the younger twin had become so much more like Ingo ever since he departed, as if compensating for his brother's absence. After pouring himself a cup of coffee, black, unlike his usual two creams and three sugars, he went on his way through the station, taking a short, much needed break. The paperwork, the delayed schedules, the problems on the rails, and all the rumors that morning were piling up quickly.

He isn't sure what prompted him to gaze at the top of the main staircase, but on top of it, he saw what was clearly Ingo in his usual uniform. Had he dropped by the apartment to pick up his coat after Emmet had left?

The older twin was looking at the time on his pocket watch before looking in Emmet's direction, giving him a nod and a wave of acknowledgement. The younger conductor could feel himself begin to smile from ear to ear and waved back. Ingo's chandelure floated closer to him and, for the first time, Emmet noticed something odd. It appeared as though there was some type of string, barely visible like a spider's web, tethering Ingo's wrist, its source coming directly from Chandelure's base. Emmet hurried up the stairs to the top to meet Ingo.

"Hey," he greeted, prompting passers-by to regard him strangely. "What is that thing?"

"Hmn?" Ingo asked.

"That-" Emmet reached to touch the thin thread, plucking it like the string on a violin, "-thing."

"Ah." Ingo looked up at Chandelure and reached out to touch her. "I suppose Chandelure doesn't want to lose me."

"What do you mean?"

"Getting lost in this sea of souls…" he trailed off, then raised a brow that could hardly be seen, thanks to their fair genetics. "I suppose I'm being held onto to make things easier."

"I don't understand," Emmet murmured.

Ingo touched his nose with his gloved fingertips. "Easier for you." Ingo offered him a gentle smile before turning and leaving, Chandelure following closely behind.

The younger twin stared, watching the back of his coat flow behind him until he noticed that several onlookers were gazing at him in confusion. Emmet frowned, heading back downstairs, coffee in hand.

Quickly, he headed back for the break room where he could still hear his employees talking and smiled at them this time.

"I saw him too!" he joined in, delayed, as they have moved onto the next topic.

"You saw…?" It took his subordinate a moment before she recalled their earlier conversation. "Oh! You did?"

"Ingo was right at the top of the stairs in the main concourse!" he exclaimed.

The two depot agents went quiet.

"Y-you saw Ingo?" they both asked.

Emmet blinked, looking back and forth between them. "Um. That is what you were talking about earlier, right?"

"N-no, we were talking about Harry from the super single lines. He quit a few years ago, right? Well, he was visiting today. He was always really responsible and had all that seniority."

"Yeah, we remember how much y-your brother valued him as an employee…"

Silence befell the room and Emmet looked down into his coffee.

"Oh," he murmured. "I didn't see Harry. I know that Ingo really valued him. Maybe they'll bump into each other?"

The two depot agents looked at each other, then back at Emmet and gave him forced smiles, nodding.

…

"You never did go back to see your therapist, did you?" Ingo asked, flopping down on the couch.

"Well, you said she was full of shit and she was," Emmet laughed.

"How long ago was that?"

"Like a year ago," Emmet smiled. "I don't think I really need to see her anyway."

"Why is that?"

"You've been around here an awful lot lately, so I'm okay!" Emmet took a seat beside his twin and took his hand in his own. "You're not going to go off without a word again, are you?"

"No. Pretty soon, I'll be with you all the time," Ingo murmured, reaching up to touch his face.

"So are you out of trouble? Are you able to show yourself around these parts again?"

"It's not that I'm able to show myself again. No, I still got myself into a lot of trouble."

"What is it then?"

Ingo's hand caressed his cheek and gazed into his identical eyes. "You'll soon get yourself into trouble too. I'm ready to take you with me when that happens."

Emmet sighed. "You really did get yourself into trouble, didn't you?"

Ingo pulled his hand back and nodded. "Do you remember how?"

It took a few moments but the younger twin finally shook his head. "Can't you tell me?"

"You already know. You just seem to have forgotten." The older twin pushed himself up into a sitting position, folding his hands over his knee. "I want you to remember. When you remember, I promise I won't leave you, not even once."

…

A trip down to the subway after hours wasn't unusual for Emmet. Often, he would get calls in the middle of the night from the depot agents on the night-shift, informing him of a problem and to please advise. When Ingo was around, he always took the calls, allowing Emmet to sleep soundly, but ever since he left, the burden fell on him. Emmet sighed softly, thinking about it, a cloud forming his breath in the cold air.

His brother lost so much sleep, being the very definition of a workaholic, from those late night calls, to staying up without sleep in order for problems on the trains to be taken care of immediately. His twin was protective, willingly taking on his brother's load of paperwork in order for Emmet to sleep soundly, lest he get an anxiety attack.

There was club music filling the streets, wild adult Halloween parties in full-swing. Most of the children have long-since went to bed, though some teenagers who were out too late could be seen walking down the street in costume. It was a weeknight, after all, and these kids would surely have school the next day.

Down the subway steps and to the office Emmet went, making a bee-line for it, pace quick, even, much like how Ingo would carry himself, though he felt himself smiling for a reason unknown to him. The door clicked open when he unlocked it with the key, lights flickering on as soon as his finger hit the switch. The door closed as he pressed his back against it.

"Six years, right?" Emmet asked himself. "It's been six years since Ingo left, hasn't it?" He fingered the smaller keys and went toward a locked case, opening it up and looking at the large binders, marked by year. He counted backwards aloud, finger tapping over each year on the spine of the binders until he reached back six years. "July through December," Emmet murmured, pulling the binder out, which contained all the important archives.

He moved to his desk, took out his laptop from his drawer, and booted it up, large binder in his hand. The keys tapped away as he entered his username and password, granting him access to electronic archives as well.

Ingo always insisted that everything be recorded both by hand and electronically.

A few simple clicks and keystrokes granted Emmet access to significant events in the archives; anything from power outages, derailments, flooding, missing persons, thefts, bugs, or deaths—anything worth mentioning that had happened on or around the battle subway, which was now simply a large network of trains ever since the battles ceased, was recorded.

His hands flipped through the pages as the information loaded for October thirty-first of six years ago.

The format on the computer was similar to the format on paper. The dates were filled in, the depot agent's signature present.

_**Description:**_

_Super Single Line death at 17:53_

_Casualty- 1_

_Cause- Fainting due to suspected sleep deprivation. Victim's body fell on tracks, crushed by oncoming train._

_Note- All protocol was followed. No hazards determined._

Emmet bit his lip when he read his brother's name over and over as the name of the victim. He looked back and forth between the hand-written copy and the electronic copy, at the signature, at how the incident had been recorded in such an orderly fashion, exactly as Ingo would have wanted it: short and to the point.

"You remember now?" Ingo asked from a chair across from him that had been empty before.

Emmet hadn't realized that Chandelure escaped from his seventh poké ball despite the bright flash, but he nodded. "Yeah, I remember."

"Well, I don't go back on my word, Emmet. I told you I wouldn't leave you if you remembered. And like I said," he murmured, gesturing to his twin. "You're about to get into an awful lot of trouble." As if to emphasize the point, Chandelure floated over to Emmet and bumped him almost playfully against his back.

Emmet closed his laptop and his book as well, ignoring his comment about getting into trouble. "I know what happened to you. I just seem to have forgotten," he laughed. "I had a feeling, which is why I came back to the office to check."

"Good hunch," Ingo remarked. "Shall we get going?"

"Yeah. Let's go."

Emmet replaced the archives and put everything away, turning off the light and locking the door behind him. Ingo reached out, taking his brother's hand, walking through the dark hallways.

"Ever since this recession, the mayor sure has been cutting back on 'unnecessary power supply,' huh?" Emmet remarked, only dim lights providing illumination in the long hallways. "I guess the city needs to save money somehow."

"Yet the stadium and theater can be as flashy as they want," Ingo practically snorted, shaking his head.

"It doesn't make sense," Emmet sighed. "But I guess they need to cut corners somehow."

"Chan," Ingo's pokémon practically seemed to whisper and quietly withdrew in an instant, taking Ingo with it.

"Ingo?" Emmet blinked. He looked around, both for his brother and for Chandelure. His heart suddenly began to race, panicking. His brother said he wouldn't leave him. Where did he go?

His thoughts were interrupted as running footsteps approached. Emmet spotted a body heading toward him out of the corner of his eye and turned, just as something sharp and cold pierced him multiple times in the back. As Emmet's body collapsed, it barely registered that hands moved through his pockets, taking the few possessions he carried on his person—phone, wallet, and keys.

His body shivered, breath wheezing, until the dim light of the hallways finally faded out completely.

…

"Whose chandelure is that?" asked a newly hired depot agent, fresh out of high school.

"Oh, that chandelure is like the Gear Station pet," explained one of the older conductors. "Been here for at least fifteen years now without any real owners. Used to belong to the subway bosses. They were twins, but the one who owned that chandelure died before the other in an accident. It was in his brother's care until he was murdered."

"Murdered?" the new recruit's voice nearly shrieked.

"Yep. Nimbasa City's pretty safe, but it's still not smart to roam underground alone at night. Not even if you're the boss," he shook his head.

"Did they ever catch the killer?"

"There were cameras on. Guy got caught within hours. Petty theft, can you imagine? He's locked up for life. But you know," the conductor grinned at the new recruit. "There are lots of sightings of the twins around Gear Station and on the trains, if you can believe that. They both died on Halloween, just separate years."

"Oh, I don't believe in that stuff," the depot agent flapped his hand dismissively. "Ghost pokémon are real, sure, but those are _pokémon_. Spirits don't just roam around freely."

"Welp, if you hear any cackling, see something fall over, and hear a voice echo, introducing itself as Emmet, that's the younger twin. If you ever see a ridiculously angry looking fellow staring at you, that's the older twin. I've seen them, myself, you know."

The conversation echoed through the main concourse, easy to hear since it was early in the morning before any big rush. Ingo and Emmet watched, each tethered to Chandelure by a nearly invisible type of string.

"This one is going to be fun to play with," Ingo remarked to his twin, smirking just the slightest bit.

"I can't wait," Emmet grinned.

[[End]]

A/N: ...okay, so maybe it was super obvious that Ingo was already dead. Oh well. The question is, did Emmet become delusional, or did he really interact with his twin's ghost? You decide!


End file.
